|SIYE Time:19:13 on 22nd March 2018|
Memoirs of a Red Headed Witch
By My Wicked Quill
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Category: Pre-OotP, Post-OotP, Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Humor, Romance, Songfic
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence
Summary: Ginny Weasley was always overlooked. Always the youngest, always the smallest, and was never really given the chance to let her voice be heard. But sometimes the best insight comes from those who were always in the background. Her story of redemption, loyalty and love, proves that she was never just the Weasley brothers' little sister.
Hitcount: Story Total: 100050; Chapter Total: 1254
Awards: View Trophy Room
2016>>> Hi all, I know it's been a long while since I've updated this story, initially, I finished it in 2012, but I went back and added ore in 2013, and now I'm here again in 2016 updating it again! Here is a brand new chapter I have written for Goblet of Fire, it is in the same prose as the story, and the same voice, don't worry- even though I am four years older than when I finished this novel initially. I made sure to make it sound just the same. Welcome back to those who were o.g. reader and welcome to all new ones! Hope you enjoy this story, it's my favorite thing I have ever done.
The Unforgivable Dread
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
"All the pain and the truth
I wear like a battle wound
So ashamed, so confused
I was broken and bruised
Now I'm a warrior, Now I've got thicker skin
I'm a warrior, I'm stronger than I've ever been
And my armor, is made of steel, you can't get in
I'm a warrior
And you can never hurt me again..."
Warrior- Demi Lovato
Up to this point, my story hasn’t seemed like much more than a tragic love story between a little girl and oblivious boy. Up to this point, the only villain, the only enemy has been a mere memory of a boy called Tom Riddle, and up to this point nothing of extreme significance has happened on a worldly scale. My story has just been about me. All of that is about to change.
I’m sure you had already started to foresee an ending of an older girl and handsome boy riding off into a typical sunset.
You couldn’t be more wrong.
This story, my story is a whole lot more.
But until the end of my third year, I ignored the darkness lurking around the edges.
“It’s pretty interesting, isn’t it?”
“The third task. A maze. It’s rather ironic.”
Hermione and I stared at Luna.
“Why is it ironic?” I asked her.
“Well the champions now must look for way to get out of a challenge that they willingly took in the first place. They got themselves into this mess, and now they have to get themselves out,” she explained, staring blankly at our confused faces.
“I’m sorry, I’m Hermione Granger,” said a confused Hermione, “And you are?”
“Nice to meet you, err… Luna, but I must disagree. The maze is a test of stamina and survival skills, not tedious problem solving.”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
I interjected here, because I knew Hermione didn’t like to be corrected, “Luna is one of my closest friends, Hermione. We’ve known each other since we were little.”
It was an interesting match. I didn’t think you could find a more different characters. Hermione was brilliant with logic and facts, Luna was more open minded and theoretical. Luna believed in anything she couldn’t see and Hermione was studied in real and not real. The match was not made in heaven but over time the two would form a friendship.
We were in the stands of the arena where the final task was taking place. Before us, a vast, lush maze stretched out past the horizon. I wasn’t nervous for this task since Harry had more than proved himself capable and a maze didn’t seem all that daunting.
The crowd began singing and cheering when the champions emerged from their tents. It was obvious that this was a proud moment for each of them: The Finale. No one seemed prouder then Cedric’s father who entered with him. It was nice to see them together again, I remembered our encounter at the Quidditch World Cup over the summer. Mr. Diggory was a very nice man and seemed to truly love his son. Cedric for his part was rather nice too. He always acknowledged my existence despite his seventh year-champion-ultra-popular-gorgeous-fac e status.
Harry smiled tentatively and sent a subtle wave towards the crowd. I thought he looked better than Cedric.
“He doesn’t seem so young compared to the others anymore,” said Luna.
“I guess it’s cause he’s proven he can compete on his own,” I replied. “And faring better than some,” I added, stealing a glance at Fleur Delacour throwing kisses at the crowd. Gross. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed Hermione elbowing my drooling brother.
Within a few minutes, the champions were sent off and the moment each stepped into a different entrance of the maze, the bushes magically closed behind them, indefinitely concealing them from the crowd’s view. If anyone had known what was about to transpire we would have clawed through the leaves and wretched the four of them back.
Time was spent socializing, playing exploding snap and in Fred and George’s case, gambling.
“I wonder how long they’ll be in there,” said Ron after about an hour.
“The maze goes on for miles, they could be in there all night,” I replied.
“I for one do not pity them,” quipped Michael corner from the stand above us.
I smiled, “Are you not interested in eternal glory?”
Michael flashed an attractive smirk, “Not as interested as Harry Potter seems to be.”
“You really think he put his name into the Goblet of Fire?”
“Well how else would he have been chosen?”
“Someone else must have done it.”
Michael shook his head, “Look he is your friend so I won’t argue with you, but it is highly unlikely.”
I didn’t really like his response but at least it wasn’t as damaging to Harry as other comments flying about had been.
“You look nice without a ball gown too, by the way.”
I blushed and returned my attention to Hermione Ron and Luna.
Another hour crept by and I could tell people were becoming restless. As for me, at the hour and a half mark I was starting to get a stomach ache.
“Are you all right, you look like you’ve eaten something foul,” questioned Hermione.
“I’m fine.” But as the night worn on my stomach ache grew stronger. Eventually, not wanting to
leave to lie down, I decided upon sitting and hugging my knees to my chest as Luna sat beside me keeping me company.
“Something bad is going to happen, isn’t it?”
I looked up at her, “What?”
“Your stomach ache isn’t an upset tummy is it? Its dread isn’t it?”
I waved her off, “Luna don’t start making up wild theories, I’m not in the mood.”
Luna’s response was cut off by red sparks shooting up into the air from deep within the maze and a piercing scream.
“AHHHHH!!!!” It was Fleur’s voice, “AHHHHHHH!!”
The screeching brought silence to the crowd and the professors sprang into action ready to retract the competitor from the maze. Within a few seconds she appeared held within the arms of her schools’ headmistress. She was shaking like mad and struggling against everyone around her.
“Give her space!” cried Madam Pomfrey. Fleur, who had yet to stop screaming, looked utterly horrifying. Scrapes and bruises covered her skin and her expression had yet to ease from shock.
My stomach ache only got worse.
It took some time, but finally Madam Pomfrey was able to calm Fleur with a handy drought.
“What the hell is going on it there?” wondered Ron.
“I haven’t a clue,” I heard Hermione tell him.
The crowd soon was back to its excited chatter, but I was still uneased by Luna’s comment. “There’s no way anyone is truly going to get injured right? It’s just a maze. Fleur must have just been frightened.”
“When they discontinued the tournament in the late 1790s it was because of the high death toll,” said Hermione. “I read an article in the Daily Prophet that stated they reinstated the tournament this year under the conditions that the students’ safety was the main priority and that there would be no room for fatalities.”
“Do you believe it?”
Hermione’s grim expression did nothing to make me feel better.
Another burst of sparks erupted in the sky further away than Fleur’s had. When Victor Krum made his entrance, he was violently thrashing and pushing anyone in arms reach. His demonic demeanor alerted the administrators and suddenly the mood began shifting from confused excitement to utter bewilderment when he almost bit McGonagall’s hand off.
“And you like that guy, Hermione. I see that’s your type.”
Hermione’s usual retort would have been a punch on the arm but when I looked over, she wasn’t even paying attention to Ron, she was intently watching Krum.
“He’s gone mad!” Seamus Finnigan shouted out.
“What is in that thing?” Lavender Brown asked beside him.
Luna was the one who answered her, “Plenty of beasts and obstacles, I’m sure, but that has nothing to do with Krum. Didn’t you hear what Dumbledore said right before the champions entered? That they might lose themselves along the way. He wasn’t speaking about sense of direction. Krum is not himself at the moment…as though he’s under some bewitchment-”
“The imperious,” whispered Hermione still staring at Krum.
“Hermione, have you lost it?” Ron looked around to make sure no one had heard her and lowered his voice, “Who would have put Victor Krum under and unforgivable?”
“What’s an imperious?” I asked staring to feel nauseous.
“I’m positive Ron, after Moody’s lesson I did more research. I looked into the signs and how to tell- Victor’s eyes…they aren’t…. It isn’t him!”
“She’s right, you know,” said Luna.
“And who are you?” apparently Ron had just noticed there was someone standing beside me for the past two hours.
“Can someone please tell me what’s wrong?” I pleaded feeling a headache forming.
“Victor Krum is being controlled by someone else.”
Before I could get an answer, Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports announced that Victor Krum, who was restrained and whisked away, and Fleur Delacour were disqualified from the tournament.
The crowd around us began cheering like mad realizing that since there was only Cedric and Harry left it in the Maze, it was an automatic win for Hogwarts.
“Something’s wrong,” murmured Hermione, I was straining to hear her as everything was becoming fuzzy. “I have to tell a professor; I need to get to Dumbledore.” She began pushing people out of the way.
“Luna,” I gasped grabbing her arm.
“Ginny?” she cried over the crowd.
Ron grabbed Hermione tried to pull her back, “Hermione you can’t go down there now, look at the professors, they already know something is wrong!”
“Let go, Ron, we are all in danger!” she cried tugging against him, “I’ve told you since the beginning of the year, someone put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire- someone is out to get him! They’ve stunned Fleur- they’ve imperioused Victor!”
A splitting pain seared in my brain.
“And I can only guess who will be pulled out of the maze next and he won’t have a lightning bolt on his forehead! Someone wants Harry to win desperately- he’s need us!”
“Ahh!!” I yelled losing my grip on Luna’s arm and falling to my knees.
The pain was white hot, it was blinding. My head pounded and my heart raced. Ron and Hermione were at my side at once while everyone continued celebrating.
“She just collapsed!”
Something bad was taking place, and suddenly I knew Hermione and Luna had been right all along: Harry was in danger.
“I’ve missed you, Ginevra” whispered a voice in my head.
“Ginny can you hear us!?”
“Somebody go get help!”
“It has been so long…”
My blood ran cold, I heard it pulsing in my ears.
“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again soon.”
“No,” I muttered out loud. “No.”
I tried to focus on something real, something in front of me: Luna’s face- her pale blue eyes. I felt scared, I felt dark…dirty. I looked past the faces of my worried friends, through the crowd and met eyes with a far off Dumbledore who, coincidently, was string right at me. His eyes were filled with sorrow.
“Oh yes, dear Ginny…” the snake said, “I’m back.”
“NO!” Slamming back into reality, the pain disappeared. But the dread, the dread remained.
“Ginny! Talk to us!”
I met eyes with a teary Hermione. She looked just as terrified as I felt. Tom’s voice had made sense after the chamber…but now? Nothing had led me to think about that time in my life… so why?
No. It wasn’t possible.
“Ginny, answer me!”
“Miss. Weasley, are you alright?” The new voice startled us. A preoccupied Professor McGonagall stood between the bustling students. “What is the commotion?”
“She just collapsed, Ma’am.”
“She’d been feeling sick all night,” added Luna.
“Is this true, Weasley?”
“I see,” Professor looked back to where the other teachers were obviously eager to return. “Can you stand Miss. Weasley?”
Ron helped me up and kept one arm around me. “Let’s get her down to Madam Pomfrey,” she said. “I’m sure the excitement got to you; have you eaten today? In this heat…”
Followed by Hermione and Luna, we made our way down to the base of the arena but I knew Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix this dizzy spell.
“I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore.” I didn’t know where the courage to speak came from but everyone heard me.
“I’m afraid he is occupied with the tournament at the moment.”
“He’ll see me,” I said, “Please, Professor.”
“Something terrible’s happened! I need to see the headmaster, it’s urgent!”
“Mr. Weasley, please help your sister to Madam Pomfrey in the champion’s tent-”
“Professor I’m begging you!”
She casted a resigned look my way, “What’s happened then Ginevra?”
A flash of light was followed by a roar of applause and cheers. The five of us turned to find that Harry and Cedric had appeared. Upon arrival, the Triwizard Cup tumbled out of their grasp and they’d fallen in a heap with Harry on top of Cedric. I smiled in relief.
But only for a moment.
The crowd cried out joyously oblivious to the fact that they hadn’t moved. Professor McGonagall left our side at once and hurried the rest of the way to the scene. Ron dropped his hold of me and sprinted after her, I followed suit.
Suddenly a tear stained Harry looked up- and Fleur screamed. It only took a few seconds for the whole crowd to jump up and start screaming out in horror. I couldn’t see anything as I tried to push through the last few people standing in my way; my heart was in my throat. When I got to where Ron had stopped by the railing of the first level, the professors were attempting to tear a hysterical Harry away from Cedric’s unresponsive body.
“Do you believe me now?” The voice said.
“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” cried Harry.
“Why isn’t he moving?” a frozen Ron uttered beside me.
“CEDRIC!” People screamed around me.
“NO! CEDRIC, NO!!!!!.”
“HE’S BACK!” yelled the boy-who-lived.
I staggered backwards as though hit with a bludger.
“Do you believe him?”
Cedric Diggory was pronounced dead the moment Harry was dragged away. But I was too consumed with Tom to pay any attention to the cries of agony from Cedric’s father. I pushed and shoved my way through the audience trying to follow Dumbledore, McGonagall and Harry. But they were too far to hear; they were retreating too fast for me to follow. Quickly, I performed a new charm Fred had taught me that would allow me to listen to someone far away.
“…Portkey,” said Harry as they pulled him into the champion’s tent, “Unforgivable… Peter Pettigrew …”
The spell cut off when they were no longer in sight, or I was just too inexperienced to make it work, but I was left leaning again the railing off to the side of the stands… alone and utterly terrified.
“You’re not alone, Ginevra,” he said, “But you aren’t going to tell anyone are you? No, you’ll want to keep me a nice warm secret.”
It was then that I ran off the stands to the nearby bushes and lost my lunch.
Hours later, there was a darkness above all. A shadow had crept into our lives in a matter of hours. Conspiracy theories and crazy accusations had already emerged since the scene down at the arena. So many questions were buzzing about but no answers. I stayed away from all the chatter.
At 11 pm I found myself sitting on a cot in the hospital wing after receiving a message from McGonagall. Cedric’s body was in some secure area of the castle, as to not cause a crowd in the hospital wing. Seeing as I was the only person there, I’d say the plan worked out.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to tell McGonagall. Not that I wanted to listen to Tom, but keeping it a secret sounded appealing. I didn’t want anyone to know Tom was in my head again. Would people think he is inside me somehow? Was he? I didn’t even know myself.
“Nights like these don’t end do they?” A voice asked from the entrance to the wing.
“Professor? What are you doing here?” I asked a very weary Dumbledore. “I thought Professor McGonagall sent me the note.”
“Indeed she did, as a favor to me.”
This was a surprise. The last time I had a conversation with Albus Dumbledore was after the chamber. “I’m sure there are many things you have to attend to, Professor. If this is about my actions at the tournament I assure you I’m feeling much better.”
“That does not completely satisfy the questions I have.”
I looked down at my hands knowing I did not want to have this conversation. Funny how just a few hours ago I was doing anything in my power to speak with Dumbledore, now I wanted to run in the other direction.
“I know a tragedy when I see one, Miss. Weasley,” he said. “I’ve seen many in my life, and tonight was most tragic. But as intuitive as I seem, I am perplexed to find that not only didn’t I see, but I hadn’t the slightest inkling of what was going to transpire tonight. However, you did.”
McGonagall told him.
Oh course she would; of course they would find it alarming that I was screaming bloody murder right before an actual murder.
“Do not misunderstand me, I did assume that Mr. Potter competing in the tournament was a foreboding coincidence, but I had no idea to what scale.” He came closer, “I was hoping you could shed some light on what happened down at the maze.”
I swallowed thickly, wringing my hands together, “Well, Sir, I hadn’t eaten all day, you see-”
“Miss. Wesley,’ he interrupted with an exhausted smile, “As much as I hate to pry into the personal lives of my students, there are a few who need help, and I will stop at nothing to help them so please spare me the lie, Ginevra.”
I blushed, “No professor, honestly I was completely fine.” Even I didn’t convince myself.
Taking a seat on the chair opposite me he said, “I’m sorry to remind you that the last time you withheld important information, it almost cost you your life.”
I looked up at him realizing I wasn’t the same little girl I once was. I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore of what people would think. He was right. I wasn’t going to let this break me or wind me up into trouble. I could help.
“Don’t tell him, you were a fool to divulge me to that werewolf.”
If there was anything I had learned from my past, it was not to listen to Riddle. “You’re wrong,” I whispered.
If I wanted to be considered an adult, then I needed to start acting like one.
“He’s back. You —Know-Who… he’s back.”
Dumbledore looked oddly surprised. “Yes, he is.”
“You believe Harry?”
“I spent a great deal of time speaking with Mr. Potter tonight and he indeed informed me that the trophy in the maze was charmed to be a portkey that transported both he and Cedric Diggory to a cemetery outside the Riddle house. A lot of black magic was done to bring what was left of Tom Riddle to full power, and back to his own form.”
It was way too much information to digest in one sitting.
“How… but…” It was ridiculous to even try and believe what I was hearing. Yet I knew he was right. If You-Know- Who was really back in power, then it meant that people were going to die. People I loved. It meant a war was coming. “So HE killed Cedric?”
“Cedric Diggory was killed by the killing curse, Avada Kedavra, the third and most terrible of the Unforgivable Curses, the nurses have confirmed this. And if what Harry is saying is true, the curse was delivered by Tom Riddle himself. So far, the tale Harry has told is being proven as true.”
Everything was starting to click together, “The whole tournament was a trap. Someone else truly did put Harry’s name in the Goblet of fire.”
Dumbledore nodded, “His name was entered by a man named Barty Crouch Jr.”
“Crouch has a son?” I knew who Barty Crouch was, he worked in the Ministry like my father and worked for the Tournament itself, but I never heard he’d had a son. “Why would he do that?”
“Barty Crouch Jr. was, well- is a Death Eater. He was disguised under polyjuice potion as Professor Alastor Moody.”
I stared blankly for a moment, running the words over in my head again and again thinking about the creepy auror that took over Professor Lupin’s post. I knew it wasn’t pumpkin juice in that flask. “Was Crouch Senior a part of it then?”
Dumbledore looked away, “We received a lot of information for Crouch Jr. tonight, unfortunately we had to use the influence of Veritaserum, a truth potion, to force him to confess. He confessed to many things, one being murdering his father earlier this year.”
Had everything gone utterly wonky?
“Professor, why are you telling me all this? Not that I object.”
“It is my belief that, if I expect you to be truthful to me, you deserve as much truth from myself.”
I nodded. Still reeling from the onslaught of information.
“And if I am being truthful, I am a fool Miss. Weasley. Alastor Moody was a good friend of mine and I failed to see that it was an imposter in his place.”
“I’m sure no one blames you, Professor.”
“But alas, all that matters is what you think of yourself and I know I am not perfect; remember that Miss. Weasley. Not one person has a clean slate, or a clear conscious, it is in our nature to make mistakes and be affected by influences out of our control. Thus, I would truly appreciate it if you would tell me how you knew Voldemort was back before Harry Potter returned with Cedric Diggory’s body, no matter how bad you may think it sounds.”
“I’m assuming you know because Professor McGonagall told you that I wanted to speak to you right before they returned?”
Dumbledore shook his head. “More than that, though Professor McGonagall did express to me how guilty she felt not believing you, I did see your face Ginevra. I already knew that the challenge was not going to end merrily once Miss. Delacour and Mr. Krum arrived so dramatically. Your reaction confirmed for me that dark forces were at play. By obvious association, Voldemort came to mind.”
I thought about Lupin, and what he would tell me if he were here. He would want me to be open about my feelings, and be open about the darkness. ‘For an open door always lets some light in…’ he told me once.
“Did Professor Lupin inform you about our… sessions last year?”
Dumbledore’s knowing expression told me he knew where this conversation had led. “That is what I feared…” he said.
“You’re a stupid, stupid girl.”
The sharp comment cut through my mind, making me flinch.
“Lupin said Tom’s voice was a part of my subconscious. But how could that be true now? How is that possible if Riddle was able to tell me he was back before anyone knew?” I said in a rush, feeling all these questions pour desperately out. I had tried so hard to push Tom down and not listen to it but suddenly I couldn’t anymore. “I’m not crazy Professor, I’m not…. Dark….I just don’t know what is wrong with me.”
The man before me softened, “It’s alright,” he said, “I assure you it is your subconscious bringing out your fears and your worries to the front of your mind in a voice you fear especially.”
“You created a bond with Tom Riddle.”
I couldn’t help a small gasp, “Excuse me?”
“Miss. Weasley- Ginny,” he said. He’d never used my nickname before. “When you wrote in the diary, you already know Riddle came close to your soul and in return you came close to his. You were young and I didn’t wish to frighten you but in the Chamber he was taking your soul for himself. Mr. Potter got there in time to stop it but it went on long enough to leave an impression.”
Impression? How had I not known that Riddle was slowing sucking the life out of me? All this time they told me that Tom Riddle used my body for following through his actions, that he was intertwined in my head…not this.
“You became partial to his magic. Your experience has left you with a keen sense for his power and his presence. I can assure you Miss. Weasley that you felt his power when he rose again and recognized it. Your subconscious told you what was happening, in an …imaginative way.”
So now it was my imagination? I found this explanation plausible but rather insulting; If not just plain embarrassing. I felt so small, so stupid. Of course there was more to the diary, of course they wouldn’t trust me with the full truth. I was only 11. And currently at 13 I was still feeling utterly insignificant.
“What does this mean for me? If the Dark Lord truly is alive, then we’re all in danger but… will I be alright?”
“I’m sure you will. As for the rest of us, I can make no assurances for safety anymore, I’ve failed one too many times to promise anything.”
This conversation had taken large toll on my sanity. Not only was Dumbledore confiding in me with his doubts and his secrets but I was all of a sudden tied to You-Know-Who in a way I never thought possible. I wanted it to end before he told me anything else I truly didn’t need to hear. All I wanted was my dormitory at that point.
“You seem tired Professor, perhaps it’s time we retire?”
Dumbledore sighed and stood, “I now have to speak with the Diggory family, as they’ve all just arrived.”
I pitied him. The wizard was just a man after all and no one ever seemed to notice.
“I do have a feeling you will be seeing Professor Lupin again soon, I encourage you to seek him out whenever you feel you need to.”
“I will, Professor. I hope I was of some help,” I said feeling he already knew what I was going to say when he walked in.
“You most certainly were. Proving that Lord Voldemort is back is going to be a challenge, there are many who are going to reject the idea. I need as much proof as I can gather. Do not worry,” he said catching my nervous expression, “Your privacy means a great deal to me Miss. Weasley, and I hope that same can be said for you?”
“I promise won’t go running my mouth.”
“Good. One last thing,” he said as he opened the door, “Madam Pomfrey left some dreamless sleep drought on the table beside you, I implore you to take some, you’ve had a rough night.”
“Is Harry alright?” I hadn’t wanted to speak about Harry, it wasn’t my business and I was trying not to think of Harry at all those days, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Harry is a resourceful young man. Voldemort has attempted to kill him 4 times now and has failed each time. Mr. Potter is okay, for now, and that is what we must focus on.”
“Even though You-Know-Who is out and about hell bent on getting to him?”
Dumbledore frowned, “I do believe we all must start calling him Voldemort, for fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. We must all start showing our Gryffindor colors now more than ever.”
The door shut softly behind him.
Dumbledore was gone and so was the world I once knew.
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